


Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy

by headedsomewhere



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 22:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13580652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headedsomewhere/pseuds/headedsomewhere
Summary: AU: Lexa has lived her entire life in a 5ft x 10ft basement, held there by the man that she had believed to be her father. When a routine inspection of the home brings to light all of the dark secrets within - it lands on the Chief of Surgery's daughter, Clarke Griffin, to help mend the broken soul of the girl in room 248.





	Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello to you and thanks for joining! This idea came to me after my psychology professor introduced us to the topic of Genie Wiley (the wild child). I won't go into too much detail, but she was a girl that entered the media during the 1970s after welfare officers became transfixed with her odd mannerisms and characteristics. She was a very extraordinary human being and I 100% urge you to read up and familiarise yourselves with her story. A word of advice, though: bring tissues. And waterproof mascara - if you wear mascara, that is.
> 
> This story will by no means follow the events that took place subsequent to the discovery of Genie Wiley. This is just a piece that was loosely inspired by her devastatingly heart breaking experience. It will indeed be very dark and I am not going to apologise for that. I am going through a battle of my own right now and writing seems to be the only outlet I can still use that helps me to cope. I sincerely hope that that won't deter you too much, though. I promise that there will also be some fluff. Not a lot, but some.
> 
> In this story, Lexa is 17 and Clarke is 19.

Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy, CHAPTER ONE:

* * *

_Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls._  
_The most massive characters are seared with scars._  
_-Khalil Gibran_

* * *

 

 

_He was on top of her. She could feel his weight crushing her bones. It hurt. Everything hurt. She could tell that he was almost done by the way he had been moving. She'd gone through this often enough to recognise these little traits; recognise his routine. That's what it was, after all. Routine. He would go out and get drunk and then he would come back wanting to play. She had long since given up on trying to fight. The more she fought, the more he forced. It was easier for both of them if she just let him get on with it. Another thing she'd come to notice. This time felt different, though. He seemed rougher. Usually she would get away with just lying there, but this time he wanted her to play along. This time he wanted to cause her pain._

_No._

_She jerked around, using all of the strength that she could muster. She would never let him go that far - not again._

_No._

_Too late. It was done. He hadn't even had the decency to pull himself away first. These were the moments that she hated most. The moments where he would slur the words, "thanks little doll," and then slam the door behind him. She would always jump at the sound._

_Routine. That's what it was. This was their routine._

Lexa awoke to a blinding light above her head and the faint hush of voices somewhere nearby. The air smelt fresh and clean, like that one time Nicholas had let her walk upstairs and she'd been able to breathe in the scent of something that wasn't mold. It was nice; pleasant.

Her body had needed to take a moment to adjust to its surroundings before she slowly began to realise that this was not her basement. She was not in her basement.

"It's okay. You're okay. You're safe."

Lexa flinched violently when she felt something try to make contact with her upper arm and was about to release a yelp of displeasure as her back hit something hard, before quickly gaining control of herself. She had not yet been told if it was okay for her to speak and was all to familiar with the consequences of speaking out of turn.

Her eyes finally focused as they began to dart between a woman standing to the side of her and a man leaning against the threshold of the room. As the woman's hand once again started to close the gap between herself and the young brunette's arm, Lexa sprang from the bed and aimed her body for the table in the far corner. She landed with a thud that made all three occupants of the room cringe, and proceeded to curl herself into the smallest ball that either resident had thought possible.

"Roan, go and get Dr Kane," she heard a female voice say, followed by the sound of disappearing footsteps.

Lexa listened intently, a skill that she had acquired when listening for Nicholas' footsteps descending the stairs, but heard nothing. Curiosity seemed to get the better of her and she slowly began to cast her eyes toward the only other presence in the room.

The woman had brown eyes and wild hair. She sat a few feet away, her legs crossed, and appeared to be looking at something above the table that Lexa had currently taken refuge under. "My name is Dr Hilker, but that is a little too formal for my liking. Most people call me Luna."

Her voice was soft, but firm. Like she had done this before. And Lexa began to feel herself slowly loosen some the grip that she was using to hold onto her legs.

Luna's smile grew as she noticed the tiny bit of movement out of her peripheral vision, but kept her eyes firmly on the painting of a quokka mounted above the small desk. "I am in my third year of residency here."

The small brunette eventually began to sit up, albeit her pace was that akin to a snail, but she listened curiously as Luna regaled her with stories of her life growing up in a town called Floukru and the years that she'd spent abroad studying medicine.

* * *

 

"Griffin! Your mom is on the phone!"

Clarke inwardly groaned at the sound of her roommate, Raven's, voice. She let a hand glide over her face, attempting to swat away the few stray hairs that had fallen out of her pony tail, realising only a little too late that her fingers were covered in paint.

"Wonderful," she huffed, picking up the phone that was located somewhere to her right. She inhaled a slow breath before raising it to her ear and pressing the accept button.

"Hey mom. What's up?"

_"Hey Clarke!"_ Her mother's voice rang through the machine. _"Look, I'm really sorry but I don't think I'm going to be able to make movie night tonight. There is a very particular case here that I need to be able to oversee."_

Vague as ever. "That's okay. I didn't expect you to be able to. Chiefing comes first, right?"

_"Clarke-"_

"No mom, really, it's okay. It gives me more time to work on those assignments anyway."

_"I'll make it up to you, I promise."_

"Of course. Look, I gotta go. Raven's shouting for me."

_"Okay, give her my best."_

"I will. Bye mom."

The teenager listened to the sound of the dial tone for a few more seconds before hanging up the phone and making her way into the living area, situated just on the other side of the double doors that separated her art studio from the rest of the outside world.

She was greeted by the sight of her roommate, classy as ever, sprawled across the small couch, a tube of Pringles in one hand and a beer in the other. Raven glanced up from whatever home improvement show she was watching to smile sweetly at the blonde, chuckling a little after noticing the blue paint that was currently covering sixty percent of Clarke's facial features.

"What did Mrs G want?" She asked, moving her legs slightly to make room for Clarke.

The blonde took the bait and sat down in the space provided, only to be used as a footrest as Raven proceeded to take back her previous position. Clarke couldn't even find it within herself to be disappointed in her roommate's actions. She was used to this by now. And she did kind of love it. She wasn't as thrilled with the smirk that found its way onto Raven's lips as Clarke grabbed the woman's legs and pulled them closer, though.

"She's cancelling movie night. Again." The sigh that escaped her lips was completely involuntary.

Raven smiled sympathetically at the sound. She had known Clarke since elementary school and one of the first things that she had learned about her small artistic friend was the hatred that the girl harboured toward her mother's job. It consumed a lot of the Senior Griffin's time, it always had, but Clarke would never once let out hope that things might someday be different. That they would someday make it through a scheduled pizza date without being interrupted by the sound of a beeping pager.

"She say why?"

Clarke hummed. "A special case that she _must_ oversee."

-x-

It was nearing sundown when Clarke finally walked through the doors of Arkadia Hospital. She had hatched the plan to bring her mother dinner after ranting to Raven, yet again, about the woman's unfair hours. The familiar smell of chemicals and saline solution was the first thing to greet her, swiftly followed by a large burly man in blue scrubs.

"Hey Gus," Clarke greeted as he pulled her into a tight hug. "Mom still not forced you to shave that yet?" She asked, gesturing toward the very large lump of hair hanging from his chin.

Gustus chuckled before proudly running his hand over his beard. "Like I'd ever allow that."

The young blonde shook her head, not even trying to hide the grin plastered on her face. "You know where she is? I brought tacos," she added, pointing to the takeout bag in her hand.

"I'm guessing her office, though probably with the new one."

"New one?" Clarke asked, flummoxed.

The man nodded solemnly. "Jane Doe. She was wheeled in this morning. Officers found her chained to a bed after a few noise complaints were made against the residents of the house."

Clarke was suddenly very aware of the guilt that was currently flooding through her body. She had easily assumed that her mother had cancelled their movie night in favour of supervising another routine appendectomy; now she felt like shit.

"Thanks Gus," she said, moving towards the main staircase. She flashed him a wave, which he returned happily, before ascending the steps in search of her mother.

* * *

_"A sad soul can kill you quicker,_  
_far quicker than a germ."_  
_-John Steinbeck_

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is chapter one - nothing special, really. This is me laying the groundwork. The first few chapters will most likely be similar in terms of word count and pace, but as the story begins to pick up then so will the content. Pinky swear.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this first instalment. Tell me what you think?


End file.
